


Signs

by primeideal



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Astrology, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 06:03:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20271145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primeideal/pseuds/primeideal
Summary: Amilyn had stayed awake until the wee hours of the morning many times on Alderaan, so giddy and distracted she had imagined phantom moons in the dark sky.





	Signs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saiditallbefore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saiditallbefore/gifts).

> Sort of for the prompt "Fuck that one canon event you really hate," is the existence of the sequel trilogy specific enough? Shrug.
> 
> I do like Han(/Leia) but he died in RotJ for this one, sorry.

Amilyn had stayed awake until the wee hours of the morning many times on Alderaan, so giddy and distracted she had imagined phantom moons in the dark sky. Now, as evening fell on Coruscant, she needed no imagination to witness the conjunction. The second moon was passing near one of the outlying planets, symbolizing fertility and harvest.

Not that she would bring it up to anyone, of course. Leia had teased her time and again on reading the will of the stars in a galaxy with an ever-shifting center. Yet even if every star was an equally fine vantage point, people were not. The old Republic had ruled for centuries from this planet; the Empire had made it their own, and now the fledgling democracy was trying to make it into something new, something stronger and more flexible than what had come before.

Maybe. Or maybe, like the black hole at the center of a massive spiral, it simply drew them in when they were too exhausted to resist gravity.

On the magrail over to Leia’s apartments, Amilyn blended in with the other passengers by being just as unapologetically colorful. Her purple hair and green skirt were no gaudier than her neighbors’ orange-gray horns or three-pronged tail, and she moved more quietly than the cybernetic legs and wheels.

Leia’s residence was near the top of a triangular tower, overlooking a few parks and sports fields that looked unnatural among the overwhelming urban expanse. “Mon Mothma sent me,” Amilyn lied.

Leia lingered at the door, hiding a smile. “To do what?”

“Get dinner,” Amilyn pressed on. “Traffic was so bad I figured we’d go out.”

“Mmhmm. And who’s looking after Mon, again?”

“Your brother! His telepathy comes in handy when she’s overworking herself.”

Leia did let out the laugh, then. “It’s much easier when you’re not the one being probed, hmm?”

_I wish you would_, Amilyn thought. _I wish you’d see how I think of you, how we all think of you, and let yourself rest, stop pushing yourself so hard. Even out of guilt for us, if that’s how it has to be at first. You’ll get over it._

Leia must have mistaken her frustration for fear, because she added, “I can’t. I wouldn’t, even if I had the power.”

“You _do_ have the power, though,” said Amilyn. “You could be a—a Jedi!”

“Or another Palpatine.”

Amilyn sighed. Was she as hopeless as Mothma, trying to forge Leia in her own image? Was Luke? The thought was absurd—if Luke Skywalker wanted to remake an ally, he’d probably meddle for hours with his X-Wing engine.

“Well,” Amilyn said, “there are some wonderful fish places that deliver. The Gungan chef on 1138th Street is phenomenal.”

“I’ll consider it,” said Leia, and flashed a brief smile. Amilyn needed no astrology to know the image would light her way home.

* * *

Lando Calrissian was the only member of the provisional government who could rival both Amilyn for fashion sense and Leia for exhaustion induced by overwork at a not-particularly-engaging job. “Somewhere in the galaxy,” he maintained, “there’s a droid who’d do a lot better job of tracking down their Imperial comrades and unlocking them for a wider range of career goals. And when I find them, they’re taking my job, and not just for the optics.”

“What’s the holdup?” Amilyn had asked.

“Because they’re probably stuck doing menial coordinate computations on some out-of-date TIE fighter,” he retorted.

He was in a more somber mood than usual on the day the first moon waned, poking at some synthetic meatstuffs in the back of a dignified cafeteria. “Everything all right?” Amilyn asked, sipping her kaf. “Droids adopting the mindset of their oppressors again?”

“No,” he said. “Well, yes, but that’s to be expected. It’s—nothing worlds-shattering.”

“If that cape place on 1093rd has gone out of business, _my_ world will be shattered.”

Lando snorted. “It is—was—Han’s birthday. Not that he’d have wanted to make a scene, anyway. But still.”

“Huh.” Amilyn added sweetener to the kaf, stirred it idly. “How’s Leia taking it?”

“You tell me,” Lando said. “You see her more than me. Than most of us.”

“No I—” she reflexively began, than wondered. “Well.”

* * *

She drew a horoscope for Corellia’s moons; tranquility, steadfastness. Better to leave Leia to her solitude, she thought, and plan for another evening, one without particular significance beyond all the moving suns and moons that shaped the galaxy.

As it happened, it did take several days to get a nice reservation at the Nabooian place. Under her own name, anyway. When she walked in with Leia the staff’s “weesa so sorry for the delay, Madame Senator,” got a bit grating.

They spoke idly of upcoming legislation or past memories, as if the hedges they had once spied from still grew in Alderaan’s hills. Amilyn insisted on ordering dessert, and Leia humored her, as the evening crowd gave way to nocturnal species dangling from the overhead tables.

“I didn’t tell you,” Leia said, “but I met my birth father.”

Amilyn blinked. “When?” Was it merely with his daughter’s ascent to prominence that he had felt inclined to seek her out? Or perhaps he’d been an outlaw under the Imperial regime, with the freedom to search only in a liberated galaxy?

“Last year, most recently. When he cut off Luke’s hand.”

“_Again_?” For a Jedi, he could be somewhat clumsy. If appropriately stoic about his gauntlet of injuries.

Leia shook her head wryly. “Just the once.”

When he’d fought _Darth Vader_.

Leia would not want condolences, Amilyn knew, nor truisms about how no one could choose where they came from (her elder cousin Jairo being as good an indication as any). “Who all knows?”

“Myself and Luke. The droids. Luke tried to explain to Chewbacca, but who knows with Wookiees.”

“Did Han?”

“He would have,” said Leia. “It was a lot to take in. I guess that helped dull me to all the rest.”

“Well,” said Amilyn. “Now that I’m part of your inner circle, you’ll just have to accept more dinner invitations.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Good.” Let Leia confide where she would, and perhaps someday she’d be able to speak to more than enough people to fit around one table.

“However,” Leia went on, “now that you’re forward enough to find such splendid restaurants, perhaps _I_ can ask you out next time.”

“I’d like that,” said Amilyn, glimpsing another small hope for the future.


End file.
